


Not Alone

by joshuaorrizonte



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshuaorrizonte/pseuds/joshuaorrizonte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Christmas when Miles feels totally alone, he decides to see if he believes in spirit channeling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Alone

Kurain in December was something of a wonder. Miles had only been there once, after the holiday, accompanying the detective that had been assigned to his father’s murder. He hadn’t really noticed much at that point, just that there were a lot of women there. He was just past ten years old at that point; he didn’t really understand why they were here, in this village full of women, when as far as he knew, his father had never been here in his life. What did this place and these people have to do with his father’s murder?

 

It wasn’t until Manfred von Karma took custody of him and took him to Germany that he fully understood what they were doing there and what had gone wrong in the investigation. A lot of things made sense, then; the man who’d been accused got off in part on a technicality, based on the concept that even if he’d shot Gregory, by the time he’d done so, he’d sustained enough damage from lack of oxygen that he was no longer legally responsible for his actions. But that wasn’t all; the defense had successfully cast doubt as to whether or not the suspect had been awake at all at the time of Gregory’s death.

 

As Gregory had died instantly of the gunshot wound, that meant that the defendant could not have killed him. That left only one possible culprit.

 

Miles pondered the long, agonizing years he’d spent believing that, since Yanni Yogi hadn’t killed his father, that meant that Miles had to have done it. He told von Karma his suspicions, as a young man, hoping that he’d just turn him out on the street and wash his hands of his guilty apprentice. Von Karma had done no such thing, instead choosing to simultaneously reassure him that he wasn’t responsible whole making sure he never told Miles he wasn’t _guilty_.

 

Miles was good at reading between the lines. He had to be; he was a prosecutor. If he wasn’t, he’d never win a single case. At least, that’s how he felt about the subject. And he read between von Karma’s lines, crystal clear: _you are guilty_.

 

He’d spent fifteen years believing that he had murdered his own father. He’d spent twenty of them believing that the Kurain school of Spiritual Channeling was a hoax, too, and he’d spent five of those years watching Maya Fey, one of his closest friends, engage in that practice while believing that there was an explanation other than that she was channeling dead people.

 

He’d spent fifteen years believing that friendship was a waste of time, too. He had both that belief and the one about his guilt soundly curb-stomped at the same time, and he’d let go of both of them at the same time. Why couldn’t he let go of the belief that Maya wasn’t _really_ channeling anyone… and neither was Pearl. It was all a trick of the light…

 

That was why he was here, in Kurain village, in December. It somewhat surprised him that they celebrated Christmas the traditional American way: big, decorated and lighted fir trees, lights hanging off every building in the village, presents wrapped in pretty paper, egg nog and fruitcake and turkeys and hams.

 

Everything but the lights were made by the villagers themselves, which was a pretty far departure from what most of his countrymen considered “traditional”, but to Miles, it made the holiday all the more meaningful. And maybe it wasn’t so strange; his foster family also celebrated Christmas, and there wasn’t a Christian among them.

 

Well… Maybe Miss Eliza was a Christian. One of the household’s gifts to her, one year, was a diamond cross necklace and she never took it off, as far as Miles could remember. But it was a moot point. The point was that one didn’t necessarily have to have the faith to celebrate the season. He would never, ever be a Christian, but they’d pry his Christmas cookies out of his cold, dead hands. Even moreso now that he’d had some of Kurain’s Christmas treats.

 

He stopped his stroll on the middle of a bridge, leading off into the training grounds of the village. The brook beneath him was frozen solid; his breath was puffs in the icy air. His fingers were stiff and his toes were starting to hurt, but he felt warm. It was an interesting sensation. He knew what happiness was; he wasn’t so emotionally stunted that he didn’t feel anything but negative emotions. He just wasn’t good at _showing_ those positive emotions.

 

But this, one that was distinctly positive, was almost wholly unknown to him. He was happy, yes, that was easy to identify. He was relaxed, something that didn’t happen often enough. Confidence was in mix, as was love- even if it was wholly friendly, or maybe even fraternal. Phoenix was here, as well as his sister, and the little girl Phoenix had adopted. She was a pleasant child, easy to love, and he’d grown to have similar feelings for Pearl over the course of their acquaintance.

 

He hadn’t really planned to even be in the USA for Christmas this year. It had happened so fast that by the time he was on the plan to L.A., his head was practically spinning. Faced with another Christmas alone, away from everyone he loved, the pain of his father’s murder particularly acute with the approaching twentieth anniversary of it, he’d just lost his head and called Phoenix. Phoenix was the one to encourage him to come to Los Angeles for Christmas, and no, Phoenix himself couldn’t host him but he knew who could.

 

And so, two days into his stay in Los Angeles, he was in Kurain, being fussed over by an elderly woman, greeted kindly by one of the village men, given chambers in the Manor that marked him as a guest of honor. And Maya made a big show of being the Master of Kurain, as if she was looking for their approval and pride.

 

She had it, at least from Miles. The last he’d seen her, she was a lanky, awkward teenager who wanted nothing to do with Kurain or the Fey family. He didn’t blame her; he couldn’t. After what she’d been put through, no one would look at her askance if she’d turned her back on them and never spoke to any of them again.

 

But now she was mature, graceful, in control, and managed to do it all while staying the quirky Maya that Miles knew. She giggled through the whole “meeting ceremony,” finally breaking down in hysterical laughter as an assistant watched on, exasperated, demanding to know why she insisted on reviving the old ways of doing things when she wasn’t going to take them seriously.

 

“Because it’s just so funny!” she laughed in response. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Edgeworth. I wanted to impress you. I guess I’m just making a fool of us.”

 

“Not at all,” Miles replied, managing to hide his grin at her sheepish amusement. “In fact, I think it’s admirable that you’re trying to revive old traditions. Especially after all you’ve been through… I’d expect you to want radical changes.”

 

“This is a radical change,” she answered seriously, her previous mirth a shadow in her eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure it’ll work out very well. I’m just not cut out for this kind of thing. I’ll need to think of something else… but that’s not your problem. Nick told me that you need some R & R, so welcome to Resort Kurain!”

 

It was during conversation over dinner that Maya and Miles agreed to let her channel Gregory Edgeworth, to talk to him about everything. As long as Maya didn’t expect him to believe that he was really talking to his father, Miles would approach it as a possibility.

 

That had been two days ago, and Miles had ruminated on the channeling since. He knew his father’s voice. Even after so long, he knew his father’s voice, knew his father’s embrace, his father’s way of saying just the right thing to make everything alright.

 

_You aren’t alone, Miles. You’ve never been alone._

It was that phrase that was making him so… odd, he was sure. Gregory- and it was amazing to Miles that he was as willing to accept that as reality as he was- had immediately embraced his son, telling him how proud he was of him and how much he loved him. And then he told him that he wasn’t alone.

 

Miles thought for a moment more, staring at the frozen water, before heading back to the village. Looked like his erroneous beliefs fell in pairs. He was stubborn enough to resist admitting out loud that he’d been speaking to his father, not to Maya, but he knew he had been.

 

But he wasn’t so stubborn that he couldn’t admit out loud that he wasn’t alone. Almost all of his closest friends were only two hundred feet away from him, at least two more in the city, and one who was with him all the time.

 

Pearl and Trucy chasing each other around was the sight that greeted him when he reentered the manor. Franziska, who’d insisted on accompanying him and Phoenix when she found out about their plans, pressed a glass of brandy into his chilled hand, scolding him for going out when it was this cold outside. Phoenix and Maya sat by the fireplace, laughing and joking, and Miles and Franziska joined them, with his younger sister snapping at them to back her up. They did, immediately, perhaps not as rude as she’d been. They’d been worried.

 

All at once, the sensation Miles couldn’t place hit him, and he smiled. “I’m fine,” he said, completely at peace for the first time of his memorable life. “I just needed to do some thinking.”

 

The conversation continued. _You’re right, Father. I’m not alone._

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for a friend who is having a tough time... I think she likes Gregory and Miles fluff, so she's getting Gregory and Miles fluff. :D


End file.
